Zero City

The Cajun nodded as a slim knife appeared in his pale hand and he started to slice.

“Krysty, lay that door right here. Anybody find boards for splints?”

“Bookcase shelving,” Ryan said, setting the wood nearby. “From the security office. Way too wide, but we can split them lengthwise.”

“Excellent.”

“Here,” Jak said, handing over the garment.

Laying the coat across the door, Mildred rolled some miscellaneous fabric into a tube and laid it sideways at the low end of the door, then another, smaller roll, near the top.

“Okay, listen up, people,” she spoke brusquely. “First thing, follow my lead and move on my command, not one second earlier. We have to do this in unison, or we may kill him right here and now. Understand?”

Ryan started to speak and stopped.

“Okay, everybody gathered around. You too, John.” J.B. shouldered his blaster and joined them. “I want everybody except Doc to take ahold of the loose clothing on a limb. I’ll hold his head. But not his body,” Mildred reminded. “Just the clothing, and try to shift him as little as possible. That’s vitally important.”

While the others did as directed, Doc positioned himself at the door. Good thing they had removed the knob so it lay flat on the floor.

“Now be careful!” the physician admonished, her hands cupping the boy’s head, fingertips resting under his jawline. “We’re only lifting Dean an inch. Soon as he’s off the floor, slide the door underneath, and keep those supports in position at his knees and neck.”

“Understood,” Doc rumbled nervously.

“On my call,” she said, watching their intent faces. “We go on the word mark. Not a second before. Ready? One, two, three—mark!”

The companions lifted in unison, and Dean moaned as he cleared the floor, his clothing tearing a little from the strain.

“Now!” Mildred barked.

Doc eased the door underneath, the loose hinge scraping nosily. “In position.”

“Good,” she grunted. “We go down on three. One, two, three!”

The companions lowered Dean onto the makeshift platform and stepped away. Releasing his head from her grasp, Mildred quickly inspected the boy again. “It’s okay for now.”

“What next?” Ryan asked, feeling the cold rush of adrenaline as if he were in combat.

“Get my new medical kit,” Mildred said. “I don’t need the instruments yet, but it’s best to have them close just in case. ”

Then she added, “And when you get the chance, thank God I have something to work with.”

“My turn,” Jak said, rising and heading for the enclosed stairs.

“Doc, go with him as cover,” Ryan ordered. “There might be more of those winged things running around outside.”

“Sir, consider me Perseus of Greece,” Doc said, and he followed the teenager out of the circle of light.

“Mildred, anything else?” Krysty asked. She knew death was just part of the wheel of life, but this was a friend, the son of her lover, a child she loved very much. Sometimes the wheel of life needed a good solid kick in the ass.

Opening her canteen, the physician sat in one of the plastic chairs built into the tables and took a swallow. “Yes,” she decided, screwing the cap back on. “We better start moving our supplies over here. Especially that brazier. And find something to use as a bedpan. We’re going to be here for a while.”

“That’s not a good idea,” Ryan countered, sitting on the rim of the fountain, the kinetic sculpture behind guttering like a Christmas tree from the light of the lanterns. “Once you’ve bandaged his breaks, we can carry him to the redoubt. There’s a full medical hospital on level five. Everything you’ll need.”

“Yeah, sorry, Millie, but we can’t stay here. Whatever was out there might come back,” J.B. added. “With friends.”

Mildred gestured tiredly. “Then shoot him in the head. We take Dean on the road, and it’s the same thing. At least chilled by a friend is faster.”

A minute of silence passed.

“Absolutely?” Ryan demanded, elbows on knees.

“Hell no. Until he wakes up, there’s nothing I know for sure. Except that he’s damn lucky to still be alive.”

Dean lay on the ground, shivering and trembling, his complexion a deathly white.

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